House Party

[Oriena]

He pushed her backwards. Ori didn’t accede easily, but she did accede. Challenge and provocation heated the lust in her stare, but she wanted to see what he’d do. Honestly, she didn’t care where they fucked, and she wasn’t in the mood for subtly or negotiating the revellers in his home. His body moved against hers, a stiffer rhythm than she knew him capable from watching him on stage. The metal hand tangled her hair, and vicious teeth scored at the flesh of her neck. The promise of pain made her gasp. Her nails raked in turn, teasing fresh scars with a ruthless possession. He was only alive because of her. Tonight, it was better he didn’t forget it.

Light fled. But the suddenly deafening, hypnotic bass of the music didn’t drown the sudden spike of whispers swarming her head. Confusion and curiosity reared. She refused to acknowledge the words the ijiraq spoke to themselves, unsure what stirred them, and desperate to tune them out. Her hands pulled at Nox’s shirt more insistently, skin catching on the remnants of glass still embedded. The dancing around them shifted as the party welcomed the dark. Ori didn’t care. 

Except: “Anyone else touches me, they’ll lose the hand,” she promised. The words purred like they were sweet nothings, but she meant every word with acidic certainty. There was nothing exclusive in their arrangement, but Ori was too selfish to share. For all her displayed apathy, she could be a jealous lover when she chose. But this wasn’t exactly that. Nox like this was animalistic – more monster than man. She pressed those buttons entirely on purpose. “And if anyone else touches you, I’ll cause a fucking bloodbath.”